By Roger Wallenstein
The kid – well, maybe not a kid, but a twenty- or thirty-something – said his name was Comiskey, and I’ll be damned if, without any encouragement, he produced his driver’s license to prove the veracity of his claim.
“You the grandson of Chuck Comiskey?” I asked, referring to the last of the long line of the family that owned the White Sox from 1900 until 1959.
“No, I’m his great, great, great nephew,” came the robust reply, making me think he was going back to the original Comiskey, Charles A., otherwise known as the Old Roman.
No matter because all the fans, including more than a few of the North Side variety, sitting around us behind home plate in the upper deck at The Grate on Friday afternoon took notice when the guy unfurled the large “L” banner while the athletes from both sides of town were preparing for the first pitch in what was to become an enticing 10-4 White Sox triumph.
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Posted on September 24, 2018